


Every Stab You Can Take

by SomeoneAsGoodAsYou (the_wanlorn)



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Post-Season/Series 04, wooing someone like they've never been wooed before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wanlorn/pseuds/SomeoneAsGoodAsYou
Summary: Lucifer has been reticent, withdrawn since Chloe went and got him from Hell. But that's okay, because she has a Plan.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 13
Kudos: 108
Collections: Fic In A Box





	Every Stab You Can Take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dressedupasmyself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dressedupasmyself/gifts).



> For the lovely [dressedupasmyself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dressedupasmyself/pseuds/dressedupasmyself)! I'm sorry I couldn't be the one to do all 10k words, but hopefully you'll enjoy this one.

Chloe had thought it would be easy once Lucifer was back:

Step one: rescue Lucifer  
Step two: ???  
Step three: live happily ever after!

It was step two that was proving to be a bit of a problem.

* * *

Lucifer was different, now that he was back from Hell. Chloe had imagined their reunion a thousand times, and it had never ended with Lucifer standing there awkwardly while she hugged him, scent of brimstone on his clothes. Eventually, his arms came up and went around her, and he slumped into her a little, but it wasn't the great return she had dreamed of.

He was trying; she knew that. With every day he came into work, every bad joke, every forced smile, she could see he was trying. She had hoped they would be able to jump back right in where they left things, but it was becoming more and more clear that it was wishful thinking that had led her to that.

"Hello, darling," he said as he came to lean against her desk, out of arm's reach.

"Oh good," she said, immediately standing and moving toward him. "We have a suspect to question."

She didn't think she imagined the flicker of unease that crossed his face. He followed her to the interview room without complaint, though. When it came time for his part of the questioning, he leaned forward and caught the suspect's eye. Then there was a pause, overly long in her opinion, before he asked his question.

She chewed her lip as she watched him, noting what the suspect was saying only vaguely. She was sure he wasn't their guy, and the Lucifer problem was far more interesting. Lucifer noticed and sent her a quizzical look before announcing that he was done.

"What's wrong, Detective?" he asked as they left the room, hand going out to touch her elbow before he changed his mind and let his arm drop.

She stopped and turned to him anyway, studying his face. "Are you okay?" she asked and he blinked, clearly not having seen the question coming. "It's just, you don't seem... you."

"I'm quite alright," he said, still looking confused, and she reached up without thinking to smooth the crinkle between his brow with her thumb.

He didn't jerk away from her, but he did freeze before relaxing into her touch, not looking any less confused. She thought maybe she was starting to put the pieces together. The facts were these:

1\. Lucifer had been in Hell for a long time.  
2\. Lucifer hated himself.  
3\. She loved Lucifer.

She couldn't be one hundred percent sure of his reasoning, but she would be willing to put a heavy bet on the middle one being exacerbated by the first one, and the last one being thrown into doubt by the middle one. That was okay, though, because she had a new plan. Or a sub-plan, maybe. It consisted of only one step, but she thought it was a good one:

1\. Woo Lucifer like he'd never been wooed before.

The last bit was maybe redundant, since she was pretty sure he'd never been wooed _at all_ , which made her heart clench. If there was anyone out there who deserved some romantic wooing, it was Lucifer. He'd done so much for her; it was time for her to repay the favor.

"Detective?" he said, and she realized she'd been staring at him for too long.

She could feel her cheeks going pink, but she just smiled and touched his arm gently, to guide him out of the interview room. He went with barely any pressure, going where she directed like he usually did, when he wasn't distracted by something shiny of course.

"Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all."

* * *

She was stymied for a bit on how to woo him. He was richer than she could even conceive of, so buying him things was out. He was Lucifer; if he wanted something, he bought it. But there were things money couldn't buy, things like her necklace, which hadn't left her throat the entire time he'd been gone. It was hidden under her shirt most days, and she wondered if Lucifer had even noticed that she was still wearing it.

She slipped it out and fingered it idly as she sat at her desk, trying to make a list of things she could do. That was the thing, wasn't it? Lucifer could get any physical thing he wanted, but people didn't _do_ things for him. And he never thought to ask. So she started writing down ideas, quick scribbles with more question marks than any list ever needed.

"What's th- oh."

She jumped at Lucifer's voice, hurriedly slipping the piece of paper under another as she turned to him, ready to make up an explanation on the spot. But he wasn't looking at the desk, he was looking at her necklace. His face was open—far more open than it usually was—and he looked almost gut punched.

"I thought you had-" he said quietly, reaching out a finger to lift the chain a little. She let the bullet drop from her fingers so he could see it in the light.

"No," she said as he let go. "I wear it every day. Under my shirt."

But she didn't move to slip it back under the fabric. She would have to, when they were out on a case. Jewelry could too often get in the way or end up contaminating evidence by accident. But in the station? In the station, she would leave it out, if only so the little glances Lucifer kept sneaking her way wouldn't stop.

And if only so the disbelieving look on his face _would_.

"Hey," she said, hours later, as they walked out of the interrogation room. "Lunch?"

He looked over at her, surprised. She knew she didn't usually suggest going out for lunch—it wasn't like they usually had time—but it wasn't _that_ out of the blue. Was it?

"It's Thursday," she continued. She smiled and, in her most beguiling voice, said, "Cod in Heaven should be outside. Your favorite."

He was surprised, and the look of it made her stomach turn. Of course she knew what his favorite food truck was. They had worked together for years, and Cod in Heaven was out there every Thursday. How could she not notice that he was more likely to eat at a bench outside on Thursdays, instead of harassing her while she ate a bag lunch? She was a detective, and she cared about him.

"Come on," she said, standing up and heading out. He followed behind, making a comment about vending machine sandwiches, which really wasn't fair. She hadn't had one of those in a long time, not with him around to convince her to grab lunch elsewhere and paying for it.

When it was their turn to order, she let him go first. Then, after he looked at her expectantly and she ordered, she managed to get in with her credit card before he'd even taken out his wallet.

"I got it," she said, handing it over to the teenager taking orders and running the register.

"Detective," Lucifer said. "I can't possibly let you-"

"Sure you can," she said, interrupting him before he could start digging himself a hole. "It's too late now," she added, as the teenager handed her card back.

She almost felt bad at how mildly distressed Lucifer looked.

"Just enjoy the free lunch," she said, touching his arm with just her fingertips. He looked ready to argue, or maybe try to slip some money into her pocket, so she stepped to the side, to the pickup window, letting her hand drop. "Just enjoy it."

His voice was soft when he finally gave in with a quiet, "Alright."

* * *

"You look nice today," Chloe said, leaning back in her chair at her desk to look Lucifer up and down.

In truth, he looked nice every day; there wasn't anything special about his outfit. She just didn't ever tell him that, a habit from back when she didn't want to inflate his ego any more than it already was. Judging by the surprised pleasure in his eyes, maybe she should let go of that.

"I look nice every day," he said, and while his tone was joking, she thought she could detect a hint of confusion under it.

"You do," she said evenly. He hadn't expected her to agree with him, but he covered his surprise an instant later with a salacious smile.

"Oh really," he said, and held out his arms, winking at her before turning in a slow circle. "Well, drink your fill."

"I just thought I didn't tell you enough," she said, checking out his butt while she had the opportunity.

His spin faltered for a second before he finished it and asked, "Are you feeling alright, Detective?"

That pulled her up short, and she looked up from where she was admiring the fit of his suit—they always fit well, but she didn't often take time to actually _look_ —to meet his gaze. She wondered how often people told him that he looked good, how often people recognized the work he put into it. He always made sure to tell her that he noticed when she went to a bit of extra effort.

"Detective?"

He was looking more concerned now. So she stood and crowded into his space, resting her hands on his chest and catching his eye.

"I'm fine. I just thought you should know that I do notice."

His eyes dropped to her lips and she couldn't stop herself from darting out the tip of her tongue to wet them. They hadn't kissed since he'd been back. They hadn't done _anything_ , and she knew that he needed space to get back into the swing of things, but she thought maybe he needed to be reminded that he was wanted. That she wanted him.

"Detective," he breathed, and he looked like he was going to kiss her, he really did. He looked like it was all he wanted in the world, and she was more than ready.

"Would you stop flirting at work," Dan groaned from behind them.

Lucifer jerked away, and she sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, ignoring whatever he was saying to Dan. Of all the times to be interrupted... They were finally getting somewhere! Lucifer was finally-

"Our suspect is in room three," Lucifer said, pulling her out of her thoughts. "He's quite the piece of work."

"Right, yeah, okay," she said turning toward the interview rooms. "Let's go."

He smiled—a genuine, pleased smile—and strode ahead of her, giving her another good opportunity to watch him. When he glanced back at her, she could tell that he knew what he was doing based entirely on the particular quirk of his lips. Dan groaned, and she shoved him just a little as she went past, making him stumble into the edge of his desk. Served him right.

* * *

Lucifer had been looking pale lately. She'd tried to find out what was wrong, her attempts ranging from subtle to outright asking, but he was tight-lipped about whatever it was. The best she could get out of him was that he hadn't been sleeping well but he was "fine, Detective. I'm fine."

It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than her.

He seemed further away, too, like he was pulling back. Oh, he still showed up for work and he still teased her and was unnecessarily annoying, but something about it felt wrong. Like he was going through the motions. Like he was _leaving_ her.

So she was worried. She was worried and she wanted to make sure he knew that he didn't get to leave without a fight. She wanted him to know that she would fight for him if it came down to that. She wasn't quite sure she knew how to do that, but she figured inviting him for dinner was a good start. Maybe he just needed to be reminded that he had a place in her life.

"Dinner?" she asked at the end of the day, reaching for his arm, a gentle press of fingers that still had him jumping under her touch. He didn't move away, so she pretended to ignore it. "With me and Trixie?"

He looked like he was going to refuse, so she was surprised when he asked, "Where should I meet you?" He must have caught her surprise though, because he quickly tried to backtrack, but she was having none of it.

"It's Taco Tuesday. Come by around six?" Her hand was still on his arm, and she squeezed gently. "Trixie missed you."

"The feeling is certainly not mutual," he said and she didn't believe him in the slightest. There was a quiet yearning in his eyes that made her want to tell him he was welcome any time. That all he needed to do was ask and she would give him the stars.

"Hey," she said, because what was there to lose? "You know you're welcome anytime, right?"

He smiled, the space between them clearing a bit. "Thank you, Detective."

"See you later?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he said, almost too quiet for her to hear. With another squeeze to his arm, she stepped away and let her hand slide off him.

At home, Trixie was less enthused than Chloe thought she would be.

"Is he going to go away again?" she asked, chewing on her pencil while she did her math homework. "Because I don't think he should come over if he's going away again."

"What do you mean, monkey?" she asked turning from where she was shredding lettuce.

Trixie shrugged and looked back down at her homework. "You were sad a lot when he was gone."

"Oh," Chloe said. She knew Trixie had noticed, knew that she couldn't hide that Lucifer had left (her. Left _her_. Being for a good reason didn't make it hurt any less) and that she was... maybe not coping as well as she could have. But she hadn't realized Trixie had noticed that much.

"He's here to stay," she said instead of apologizing like she probably should have. "He's not going to go anywhere again."

"Promise?" Trixie asked as she started furiously erasing something on the page.

"Promise," Chloe said, hoping that it was a promise she could keep. Maybe she would tell Lucifer about it later; maybe it would help him with whatever he was dealing with that kept him from wanting to jump right back in where they were when he had gone away.

Back to Hell. When he had gone back to Hell, and she shouldn't expect him to just shake it off. But he was so important to her that it hurt. And her plan didn't seem like it was working very well. Maybe she needed to up her game after this.

When Lucifer showed up—five minutes late, which wasn't like him at all—he looked like he was having second thoughts the instant Chloe opened the door. She waved him inside and called out to Trixie, to let her know that he was there. A part of Chloe had still expected Trixie's usual reaction to Lucifer, but instead of throwing herself at him for a hug, she peeked out from the kitchen, said hello in an overly suspicious tone, and then ducked back into the kitchen.

Chloe stared for a moment, debating whether to call her out and make her at least be polite about a guest being over, but discarded the idea once she glanced to Lucifer. He looked-

He looked like that was what he had expected, and something about the slope of his shoulders told her that forcing it wouldn't help.

Still, she couldn't stop herself from saying, "She missed you. She'll come around," like knowing that would fix everything.

"Well," he said, forcing a bright smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure I'll-" He seemed to falter there, and after a moment of floundering, held out a bottle of expensive tequila. "For margaritas."

"Thanks," she said, taking it from him and motioning for him to follow her into the kitchen.

Everything for a taco bar was set up on the counter, and Trixie had already grabbed a plate and a couple taco shells. She was impatiently waiting for them, shifting from foot to foot and eyeing the food like she'd never eaten before. As soon as she saw that Chloe and Lucifer were both in the room, she started to build her tacos.

"Where's Daniel?" Lucifer asked quietly, as he picked up a plate.

"Working," she said, just as quiet. Trixie didn't seem to be listening, but who knew with kids that age. "He wanted to be here too, but..."

"Ah," was all Lucifer said and turned back to the food. "Should I make the drinks then?"

She had triple sec and lime juice—and how Lucifer had known she would only need the tequila was a mystery to her—so she let him get to it. When she turned back from making her own food, he had three glasses down and was pouring into the third glass.

"Trixie can't h-" she started, but Lucifer shook his head with a smile.

"It's virgin, darling," he said. "Nothing but juice and soda water."

"Oh," she said, glancing over to Trixie, who looked excited to get to have something close to a grownup drink. As if she thought Chloe was going to put the kibosh on it anyway, she turned puppy dog eyes on her. Chloe couldn't help the smile that grew as she looked back at Lucifer, who was waiting for her to tell him no, too. "That's fine then."

He winked at Trixie and went back to adding finishing touches before bringing the drinks to the table. Dinner went as smoothly as could be expected. Trixie started to thaw after her first taco—and first virgin margarita—and Chloe thought maybe her earlier recalcitrance was hunger more than actual anger at Lucifer.

Lucifer insisted on helping with the dishes, and once those were done, he lingered by the sink, just watching her, something ageless and empty in his eyes.

"Hey," she said going to stand in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing at all," he said, and he sounded like he meant it, but the look on his face was telling a different story.

"Do you want to stay a bit longer? Maybe play a board game or something?"

He paused to consider, looking like he was going to refuse. But whatever was bothering him couldn't have been too bad, because he eventually nodded and turned to Trixie.

"Alright, urchin, what game are we playing? Monopoly again?"

"We should play Sorry," she said, and a look passed over Lucifer's face that had Chloe reaching out to him.

"Trixie," she said warningly as she did.

But Trixie just crossed her arms and double-down on it. "I want to play Sorry."

"It's alright," Lucifer said quietly, and Chloe sighed.

"Fine," she said, but she gave Trixie one of her Mom looks—the one that said they'd be talking later—before she said, "I'll go find the game. Be good."

"I'm always good," Trixie said, which was an outright lie, but it made Lucifer chuckle so Chloe didn't call her on it.

Once she found the game, she went back to the kitchen and paused, just out of view of the table, where the two of them were talking.

"I am sorry for leaving without saying goodbye," Lucifer was saying quietly.

"You shouldn't've left," Trixie said, her voice carrying further. "You made Mom cry. A lot."

Chloe was about to go interrupt them when she heard Lucifer sigh and say, "I know. But it couldn't be helped."

Trixie made a rude noise, which was Chloe's cue to go break it up. She would have to talk to Trixie later, but for now she would try to get the empty look out of Lucifer's eyes and fill it with them.

* * *

Her next move involved some planning and the weather report. Once she was sure she had a day that was going to be nice out—not too hot and not too windy, just the right amount of sun—she packed up a bag and headed for the beach.

The bit of coastline she was heading for—the bit where some of their most important "moments" had happened—was deserted. She made quick work of laying out a cloth and arranging an umbrella and cooler. She had a pair of wine glasses and a bottle of white with a coldpack in the cooler, along with sandwiches. Not as classy as Lucifer would have done it, she was sure, but it was good enough.

She had subtly checked the day before to make sure his afternoon was going to be clear. All that was left was to call him and lure him out to the beach.

She dialed and waited through the rings. It was almost to the point voicemail would have picked up before he answered, his voice subdued. "Detective?"

"Hey Lucifer," she said, eyeing the cooler with a critical eye. Should she have tried for something fancier? "Are you busy?"

"Never for you, darling," he said. She wondered if he meant it that—if he truly meant that all she had to do was ask and he would drop whatever he was doing for her. She had known the answer to that before he left, but now that he was back? She wasn't sure. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"If you have the time," she said, as she glanced down at herself and regretted wearing the light blue sundress instead of something more... appealing, "I was hoping you'd come down to the beach with me."

There was a pause that made her stomach curdle as she thought about having to pack up everything and try again some other day. Maybe it was for the best; maybe she could come up with a better plan, a better picnic.

"You don't have to," she said quietly, hoping the sick feeling in her stomach didn't make it into her voice.

"No, I- I'll be right there," he said. "Should I pick you up?"

He still sounded subdued, but she relaxed a little when he agreed. "No need. You know the spot. See you in a bit?"

He said a quick goodbye and hung up. There was nothing for her to do but relax and wait. When she found herself glancing toward the parking lot more often, she shifted so she could watch it instead of the waves. He said he would be there, and he had never lied to her. She just needed to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

By the time she saw a familiar car pulling in, half the bottle of wine was gone and she was feeling morose. The pall didn't lift as he strode across the sand, but she put on a smile for him anyway. His own smile faltered as he looked over the picnic, and she almost wished he had just called her to cancel. She didn't get up to greet him, but smiled wider when he didn't pause before folding himself down on the blanket.

"If I'd known you were planning a lunch I would have come much sooner," he said, eyeing the cooler with some interest.

Sadness tinged her smile as she said, "It was a silly idea. I just thought..."

When she didn't continue, his face fell a little. "I didn't mean-" he started, but she shook her head and cut him off.

"No, it's alright. I just thought that maybe you could use a little silly in your life right now." She reached over to unpack the sandwiches, still chilled from the coldpack, and handed him one. "Wine?"

"Please," he said, taking the sandwich from her.

She poured them each a glass of wine and handed his to him, her fingers brushing against his as she did. He was silent for a moment, taking a bite of sandwich and closing his eyes in pleasure as he chewed. She found she couldn't look away from his face. There was a haggard look to him, but the lines had eased since he sat down with her.

He sipped the wine, making a pleased noise at her choice, and she smiled into her own glass. It was nice, to just be sitting with him, but she couldn't not notice his stillness; the way he held himself had changed since he'd come back and something about it made her sad. He was more closed off and it made her heart hurt.

"Are you okay?" she asked before she could stop herself. It was a silly question with an obvious answer, and she shook her head as he turned startled eyes on her. "No, sorry, stupid question. I just meant- You're... different."

He took another bite of sandwich, seeming to think over his answer, before setting the glass and sandwich to the side. He turned a little, until he was twisted face her. She swallowed at the bleak look in his eyes and clenched her fists to stop herself from reaching out to him.

"Detective, I- I know you just want things to go back to normal. And if I could... There's nothing I would like more dearly but I- I don't think I can." He looked so _apologetic_. Like it was somehow his fault that he couldn't just let go of all the years in Hell and be the same person he was when he left. Like he was _lacking_ for not being the same person after so much time had passed.

And yet, she couldn't stop her lip from trembling as her stomach sank and she asked, "What do you mean?"

It wasn't like he was breaking up with her; there wasn't anything to break up yet, and that was the problem. But she could see the conversation playing out a hundred ways after a statement like that, and none of them ended with a happily ever after for her.

And wasn't that just typical for her life.

"I'm not the same person I was," he said, gently, like she didn't know that. "I- I know it hasn't been as long for you, but I was gone for a long time, and-" He paused, looking down and away from her. "I did things," he continued, not meeting her gaze. "Terrible things, when I was-" He shook his head a little. "I'm not the same person I was."

She realized she was still holding her sandwich, fingers squishing the bread until it was turning back to dough beneath them. So she put it off to the side and clenched her hands in her lap as she turned over his words. It reminded her of years ago, on the beach. Of him telling her he wasn't worth it and her kissing him anyway, because what did he know of his worth? It wasn't up to him to decide.

She found her gaze caught by his hands resting on his thighs. They were still, but his fingers were digging into the meat of his leg so hard the fingertips had turned white. She ached to reach out, to slide her hand under his and ease his punishing grip.

"Do you want me to back off?" she finally asked and swallowed down her fear that he would say yes.

His gaze snapped to hers and he looked startled, eyes wide and strangely vulnerable. "But I'm- I'm not the same-"

If that was his objection, if all he was worried about was that the ways he was different wouldn't appeal to her, well... "I'm not the same person I was, either."

A guilty look flashed over his face, but she wasn't sure why. "Yes, of course, but you're still- The essential parts of you haven't changed."

"Are you trying to tell me yours have?" she asked, unable to stop the disbelieving huff of breath.

"If you knew the things I did," he said quietly. "You wouldn't be saying that."

"Then tell me," she said. "Make me understand, because from where I'm sitting you haven't changed that much. You haven't had a personality transplant. You're still the same person I- You're different, but you're still the same."

He shook his head as she talked, though, and it took him a moment before he said, "I can't. It's not- I can't."

She had known that was what he was going to say, but it still hurt a little. The guilty look flashed over his face again and she wanted to ask him about it. Wanted to press until he told her everything, until her curiosity and need for answers was satisfied. But she wouldn't do that to him. Couldn't do that to him.

"Lucifer," she said and waited for him to look at her again. It conveniently gave her time to gather her courage for what she had to say next. When he finally met her gaze, she said carefully, "I still love you." He started like he was surprised by that. Like that could possibly be a surprise given how hard she'd been trying to woo him. So she continued. "I haven't stopped. You're different, and I know that, but I _still love you_. I'm sure some of the things you've done would upset me, but I still love you. I will still love you if you decide to tell me them someday, and I'll still love you if you never do."

She took a deep breath, needing a moment to collect herself and dash the tears that were forming away before they fell. Lucifer was staring at her, something shocked and desperate and needy in his eyes. She huffed again, an amused puff of air, and continued.

"If you want me to back off, if you don't feel the same or if you don't- If you think I've changed too much, then I will. No harm no foul. But I- I just- If there's one thing you believe me on, just one, it should be that I still love you."

He was quiet, his eyes wet until he blinked away the moisture. As the silence grew between them, she had to look away. She didn't know whether to be hopeful about his silence or just take it as a rejection and cut her losses. It would be hard, but if she could survive him leaving once she could survive this.

His voice was rough when he finally said, "I- It's... nice. To have someone-" He waved his hand vaguely in the air, but she thought she knew what he meant, and sighed, relieved.

"It's nice for someone to put in the effort-" she said when he didn't continue "-to make you feel wanted."

He nodded slowly, silently. His fingertips were no longer white with pressure, but he was still gripping his legs. And she still didn't reach out.

"I don't want you to stop," he finally admitted.

"Okay," she said, the relief of it making her nearly giddy. Maybe it was too soon, but she decided to press her luck and asked, "Can I kiss you?"

He blinked, surprised, and his lips quirked in a half smile. "I don't think anyone's every asked me that before."

"I just want to make sure," she said, leaning forward a little.

He leaned forward too, murmuring, "I think we are."

When their lips touched, it was like an electric shock went through her. He tasted of the wine and something she thought might be brimstone. Or maybe guilt. Either way, she melted into him with a pleased noise that he echoed.

It was going to be a long road, she knew that. If he hated himself before he left, she couldn't imagine how he felt now that he was back. But she was patient, determined, and most importantly, willing to wait for as long as he needed. Until then, she could get by on stolen kisses and candlelit dinners. On trips to the beach and games with Trixie and making a place for him with them. On showing him how easy it could be to let himself be loved.

The End


End file.
